Want
by MGMK
Summary: Chalk it up to her just being Brittany, again.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **Random Brittana drabble in which insecure Brittany is really insecure and Santana calls her (indirectly) stupid and tells her she doesn't care what she has to say in the nicest way. Weird, right?

* * *

Chalk it up to her just being Brittany, again.

Sure, she knows _now_ that the right thing to do would have been to ask the bus driver if he was headed to Louisville and not from it (some things still get turned around in Brittany's mind, regardless of how many times she's gone over them) but…she's Brittany, so instead of wanting to look like a total idiot, she watched the bus that was due to bring her to Santana's school in another twenty minutes or so, pull off onto the freeway while she waited in the bus terminal.

And, yeah, people make mistakes all the time, but it takes a special kind of person to come back from the bathroom see only one bus waiting and purposely not board it (even if a haze of confusion and nerves may have kicked in full force just then).

Brittany's that special kind of person.

And, yeah, when she called Santana near tears and told her she was stranded and that she needed her to come get her, Santana totally didn't seem to mind, like, at all.

She seemed elated even.

And yeah, people get lost all the time.

They've got whole shows about missing persons for crying out loud.

But, still, there's a whole hour in between now and the time Santana's going to be here to get her and Brittany has nothing but time to berate herself.

Time to think about how incredibly stupid she is.

She's the saddest of pandas.

**o-X-o**

Santana's talking non-stop.

And it's great and all because she's missed Santana like the ocean misses the sea or like…Perez Hilton misses being famous.

But she's also still very much in her head and the more Santana talks about this awesome life she's leading and the opportunities she's being given the more Brittany feels like she's dead weight.

She used to be Santana's life raft and now she feels more like an anchor.

"Britt," Santana says, cutting through her thoughts, "You're being so quiet. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Brittany answers, far too quickly to be convincing. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Santana says, quickly glancing over at her and reaching to grab Brittany's left hand with her right. "C'mon, babe. Tell me what's wrong or I'll have to kiss it out of you. Although, as soon as we get to the dorms I plan on doing that anyway."

Brittany manages a small smile before her pout comes back tenfold as she tries to figure out how to explain what she's feeling. "I…I just feel…stupid."

"Britt, you're a genius. You're not-"

"Santana," Brittany interrupts sternly, "Don't, okay? I let the only bus stalling in the terminal – _my_ bus, with _my_ bus driver – leave without me. That's stupid."

Santana squeezes her hand. "Everyone makes mistakes Brittany."

"Santana, just stop it. Come on. I'm not the cheesiest goldfish in the box, okay? Stop collaging me."

Brittany watches as Santana swallows back an immediate rebuttal. "I don't get what you're trying to say, then, Britt."

Brittany sighs, frustrated and tries a different approach. "You're so awesome, Santana," she starts, shaking her head a little as a small smile breaks free. "I mean, you did it. You're out of Lima and you're in college. You go to parties and you make friends and you're working toward an actual future. It's…it's just really amazing, Santana."

Santana stays silent, letting Brittany continue.

"And then you've got me. The repeat senior who lost a stupid class election because I said I wanted the school to be open on the weekends," Brittany murmurs. She looks down to their joined hands, her thumb brushing sweetly against the back of Santana's hand and her eyes sting with tears at what she thinks next. "I just can't help but think sometimes that…that I'm not good enough for you. I mean, Santana, you deserve someone who's got something going for themselves. Someone who's gonna be able to stand beside you, you know? You need someone who's going to help lift you up, not hold you back."

Brittany's lets her words linger in the air and it's deathly quiet, the only noise in the car the steady jingle of Santana's car keys. Then…

"Are you finished?" Santana asks and Brittany looks over to her, surprised to see Santana's face is actually one she doesn't quite recognize.

She's looks angry – but she's so very rarely angry, truly angry, especially in Brittany's presence – that the look if foreign and unfamiliar, even to her.

Brittany nods, unable to speak.

And Santana very quickly pulls over to the side of the freeway, ignoring the blare of the horn from the car behind her, pissed at the unexpected move.

Santana undoes her seatbelt and turns all the way in her seat until she's facing Brittany square on, chest heaving as she breathes in and out and in and out.

Brittany'd be lying if she says she's not at least a little scared.

"Brittany," Santana starts, voice low, "You know I love you and I know you hate this word but what you just said has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Brittany's eyes widen as Santana reaches out to grab her face suddenly, squeezing her cheeks together so hard that it might hurt if she wasn't so incredibly distracted by the abrupt nearness of Santana.

Santana presses their foreheads together as she continues.

"I don't care," she grits out, her eyes daring Brittany to look away, "what you think I deserve."

Santana huffs a laugh, pressing even closer.

"Hell, I don't even care what you think I need. Because I'm _telling_ you what I want. And what I want," she whispers here, and Brittany can hear her swallow, "is you. So what if you're not this super mega brainiac geekazoid I'm not perfect either-"

"Yes you are," Brittany disagrees.

"And you're perfect to _me_," Santana insists, trying to make her understand and Brittany's tears finally spill over. "You're perfect _for_ me. And all the awesome that you think I am is only because I have an awesome girlfriend by my side. I need you to get that. Do you, get that Brittany?"

Brittany can barely nod but the slight downward shift is all Santana needs for confirmation.

"So, are we done with this who deserves who stuff or am I going to have to kick your ass," Santana's lips turn up into a smirk, "…metaphorically speaking, of course."

Brittany laughs a little, "Of course."

"Alright," Santana says, leaning in to kiss her sweetly before pulling back. "And you believe me, right?"

Brittany starts to answer affirmatively but Santana cuts her off with a playful.

"Because if you still don't believe me I'm gonna have to show you in the backseat of this rented car."

"You know what?" Brittany says, "I think I might need a little bit more convincing."

Santana smirks, moving to climb over the arm rest and onto Brittany's seat. "You see, Britt? I told you you were a genius."


End file.
